Circumstance and Pomp

Certain times in our lives are precious and others we desperately wish to relive to see if we can do it differently and, perhaps, better. My youth was not idyllic, my 20s were turbulent, my 30s were depressive, my 40s were filled with change, my 50s were recovery, and my 60s are a challenge.

It’s easy to talk about a dysfunctional family, but we all know that back then, back in our youth, it pretty much always seems dysfunctional because there’s a disconnect between the people we are and the people we wish we were. From the perspective of age/wisdom, I know intellectually that my parents did the best they could, but they came from abusive family life, so dysfunctional seemed like a step up. I continued the cycle of dysfunction because that was my role model, but I didn’t know it until too much time had passed to take any of it back.

When I finally stopped the train wreck that was my marriage, I left myself alone with 2 children who both needed more than I could give them, at least financially and, perhaps, emotionally. Instead of spending more quality time with them, I became a producer of income so they could make it another step up from my parenting when it was time for them to take that next step. I found ways to get both of them through college, and I’ve done my best to help them as I could since that time, but I know there are many areas where I simply could have done it differently.

A decade ago, right after turning 50, I had to flounder my way through the worst time of my life, a time of crisis managed by someone I called “friend,” but whose only goal was her own agenda. She could not achieve it with me, so she took me out. I inadvertently helped her to achieve her goal because she knew my weakness, self-doubt, and she exploited it and manipulated the situation around me until I literally went crazy: a significant cognitive break from reality from which I doubted I would ever recover.

But I did, and life went on.

I’ve consciously changed many of the people, places, and events in my life, adopting a new attitude about who I am and what I need to be myself. I have slowed down my reliance on other people’s opinion of me and focused on what I need to be that person about whom I can feel proud. It’s a work in progress, but whose life isn’t?

Saturday, I finished something for myself that has been lurking in the recesses for 4 decades: a master’s degree. I’ve always been a hard worker, but it’s very hard for me to do for myself when I feel that I should be doing for others. I wanted to have the master’s degree that never found its time slot between an ill-conceived marriage, raising 2 children through college, working 3 and 4 jobs at a time, and constantly trying to prove that I am better than my dysfunctional family. I found a way to accomplish that goal and completed the degree last December, but it's only conferred once a year, and I decided to attend the ceremony.

I thought it was simply tying up the loose ends, but when I walked into the gym and saw the crowd standing, tears began to flow. I felt unworthy—again. I felt that those people would never stand to honor me if they knew that I had completed my degree on-line. Yes, I know that I earned it, but I’ve heard so many casual condemnations of getting it “the easy way” that it had begun to affect my pride in my accomplishment. I almost cancelled the trip to the graduation because I felt like a fraud.

It was a relief to hear all graduate students praised equally: those who sat between the bricks and mortar and those of us who punched a keyboard. It was a relief to feel that my accomplishment was validated, not condemned as unworthy. It was a relief to have the proof in my hand as I exited the building. It was a relief to know that my perspective was accurate, that I had worked hard for what I achieved, and that I had as much right to walk across that stage as anyone else in the building.

Somewhere, deep inside of me, I kept feeling that it was not real, that I would not be given the diploma. Because my life has been a series of “gotchas,” I kept thinking that this, too, would be taken away by someone, somewhere, who needed to hurt me to make him/herself feel better.

But it’s mine, and I’m proud of what I accomplished. I’ve closed that window and am moving on to others that need to be closed before I tackle the next phase of my life: myself.

It’s not going to be hard or easy ahead of me, but it’s just going to be what it is. I’m accepting of the need just to take it as it comes, and rather than forcing my life to work, to allow it to be. I have a feeling of not being finished, of needing to do something, but I can’t for the life of me figure out what that “something” is—yet. When I know, I’ll know, and it’ll be done.

Meanwhile, I had a nice surprise waiting for my return to my classroom, a plaque commemorating my selection as one of the Top Ten Educators—an award for teachers, selected by teachers. I wish I had been here to accept it in person, but I was busy participating in graduation.

After I finish cleaning out my office and ridding myself of boxes of teaching materials and detritus, my plaque will proudly go on the wall next to my new diploma.